follow the rules

Follow the rules

 

 The old man sat in his high walled garden

 he had been a traitor to his country not

a stern quisling but enough to be shunned

by the people of this town who had hailed

him a great writer

His exile was self- enacted he still believed

he was correct his right winged policies

essential for his countries future, but he had

no one’s ear, so he wrote about the seasons

his garden was big and fauns danced

at twilight.

He heard the radio Europe was changing

people were tired of predictable democracy

liberalism, vapid as morning mist, leaders

were far removed from the people, freedom

had become borderless  tyranny a dyke that

could not stop the flood of hatred of those

who were made to follow the rules?

Perhaps his time had come the people would

listen to him now.

 

◄ we the humans

the deepest sleep ►

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